Left Behind Epilogue
by zookitty
Summary: An Epilogue for N'Kala's Left Behind. It had been a long night, and apparently it wasn’t over yet.


**AN: **My very first thunderbirds story! Woohoo. But there are many more to come. I hope you all enjoy it.

This is an epilogue for N'kala's story Left Behind. If you haven't read it check it out! It's very much worth it. She's an amazing writer! If you wish to precede without reading or if you read it a long time ago there is a brief summary below.

Thanks to Isis for betaing!!

**Summary of Left Behind: **Gordon shirks responsibility, twice, leaving Alan to make his own way home after school. Alan is kidnapped by a predator but luckily the Tracy's save him before anything truly horrible can happen

Jeff held on to his youngest furiously, all his worry and anger rushing into the one gesture. He felt the adrenaline slowly dwindling out of his system, and knew that Alan felt the same relief when the small body fell limp in his arms. He cradled his son for a moment longer as the red and blue of police lights came into view.

"Dad…lets take him home," Scott suggested, sounding incredibly young. Jeff turned to his other boy's to see Gordon and Virgil were already in the back seat of the car, arms outstretched to accept their brother.

He reluctantly eased Alan into their care. Jeff grinned as Virgil and Gordon fused with him until he ended up draped over them, with his broken leg supported on Virgil's lap and his blonde hair brushing Gordon's shoulder.

Jeff sunk into the driver's seat his hands shaking and his mind giddy. He knew it was the side effect of the departing adrenaline but it was more than that. He had Alan back and at that moment he couldn't imagine anything better than to have his sons around him and all relatively happy.

He waited for his other two sons to finish with the cops and get in also, Scott beside him and John behind, before he started off.

"Dad, I think we should swing by the hospital…" John suddenly broke the silence, his voice forcibly even. Jeff all but turned around in his seat to see his second child gently prodding Alan's leg with a look of concern.

"I think it's broken," Virgil added. The Tracy patriarch stifled a curse as he switched his route. He wished that Jason Biggs was right there so he could pound out his frustration a little more. It had been a long night, and apparently it wasn't over yet.

--

Alan woke drowsily, staring at the sun that was casting yellow rays across him. He looked down at his hand finding it clamped tightly in his father's. The youngest Tracy smiled dopily. He couldn't move very much but at that moment he didn't care to. He was warm and safe under his father's eye—and if he wasn't mistaken he could feel one of his brothers at his other side.

Noticing the IV for the first time he realized that his peaceful good mood was mostly artificial.

"Hey Sprout, how're you feeling?" he looked up to see his oldest brother leaning over him with a look of concern.

"H'y Sc'tt," he muttered sleepily. "mmkay." Scott laughed, gently brushing the bangs away from Alan's face.

"Glad to hear it. Go back to sleep…I'll be here when you wake up." Alan didn't require anymore prompting.

--

The second time he woke it was to a great deal of chatter. He kept his eyes closed and let it roll over him. Scott and his dad were discussing something to his right, while to his left he heard Virgil and John. There was only one voice missing.

"You can stop pretending you're asleep Sprout." Alan grinned, there was the missing voice. He peeled open his eyelids and found Gordon perched on the bed beside him with a bright red marker in his hand.

"What are you doing?" the youngest Tracy questioned trying to sit up, Scott's strong hands steadied him while John pushed the button so the bed shifted him into a sitting position.

He glanced down at his leg and saw that he had been right about breaking it, but instead of a gloomy white cast his was covered in different colors. Each color matched a familiar handwriting. He grinned as he read over each of his brother's messages. Scott's was equal parts a get well soon note as it was a mother-hen lecture. Virgil had obviously decided to put his artistic skills to use with a big picture of a rocket on the lower part of his cast.

And in the very middle was written in red "Gordon's brother, if found return to…" Alan laughed, and met his older brother's remorseful eyes.

"I'm sorry Sprout."

Alan's smile was still a little dopey. "It's ok…you came for me." He would never forget the hope that filled him when he looked up and saw Gordon's face in the window.

The swimmer leaned forward and ruffled his brother's hair, laughing when Alan swatted at him in weak defense.

It was a second chance—a third chance really—and it was more than Gordon deserved, but he was glad for it.

--

Gordon sat awake watching his little brother sleep. He didn't look at the clock, it wouldn't do any good. Any time after three was late, what did it matter _exactly_ how late? Alan had conked out on the couch about two hours after they brought him home, and he'd spent most of the day dozing in the presence of one brother or another. Finally Jeff had carried him in to the room he and Gordon shared.

The young swimmer knew he should be sleeping. Knew he didn't have anything to worry about, but every time he shut his eyes the nightmares came.

He looked up as the door opened. John walked over and sat on the bed beside him, his shoulder brushing Gordon's. Neither said a word as they both watched Alan sleep.

--

Virgil walked down the basement stairs, following the muffled thuds. He always got kind of nostalgic when he came down there. Everyone seemed to know about the Tracy's many successes, what they didn't know about was this basement. The sum of every failed attempt and short lived fetish was contained there. Scott's roller skates, notebooks full of John's poetry—curtsy his mercifully brief emo stage—Gordon's model airplanes that were never even started, Alan's bug collection, even Virgil's half finished sculpture that stood a true testament as to why he should stick with paints. He felt morbidly reminiscent. In some ways these things didn't seem like failures. John would call them bridges, getting them to where they all were now.

His mind was returned to the problem at hand as he rounded the corner and found Gordon pounding away at their old punching bag. The red sack swung wildly away from the assault nearly colliding with the younger Tracy. Virgil moved over and held it steady, his sudden presence seeming to have no effect on Gordon.

It was several minutes before the younger swimmer slowed, falling against the abused bag for support. Virgil slowly rounded it to face him.

"Where's Alan?"

"With Scott," Virgil replied, unperturbed by the lack of greeting. They had all become furiously protective of their youngest since he was taken, but none more so than Gordon. "You ok?"

"I'm just…so ticked off," Gordon admitted staring at the ground, the punching bag, or anything but his brother. "When I think about what that man wanted…what he almost did to Alan…"

Virgil rounded on him, taking Gordon's face in his hands. "Hey, Alan's alright…he didn't…nothing happened to him." The swimmer shook him off.

"I know, but if he had…it would have been my fault."

"Listen to me," Virgil demanded, "This was Not. You. Fault. You messed up, I get it. But what that guy did…what he wanted to do wasn't your fault. He was sick. Twisted. Evil. It was nobody's fault but his. Got that?" He watched the anger deflate from Gordon.

"Why Alan?"

"I don't know," Virgil replied honestly. "I get that you're angry. I wish the cops hadn't gotten Biggs so soon…but you know he _isn't_ here. We are. So, we'll have to do the next best thing."

He walked over to one of the shelves and drew out two long wooden katanas, tossing one to Gordon.

"Kendo?"

"Kendo," Virgil replied with a smirk. Gordon braced the sword in his hand and nodded. It had been a long time since any of the brothers had played that game—mostly because the older ones tended to win and the younger ones tended to walk away bruised, but somehow it seemed more effective than a punching bag.

"Bring it," Gordon taunted. They attacked each other with repressed rage that only protective older brothers can muster, the wood smacking against wood.

An hour later they collapsed to the concrete, breathing heavy and bruised but laughing.

--

Alan stepped out the door of his middle school. It was his first day back after Bigg's kidnapped him, and he had to squelch the panic that instantly attacked him. He took a deep breath and hobbled out onto the sidewalk, turning toward the high school. A grin exploded across his face.

Virgil and Gordon were leaning against the wall a few feet from the door, waiting for him.

"Ready to go Sprout?" Gordon asked, as if it were normal for them to be there.

"Yep," he replied, still beaming. Virgil ruffled his hair as he joined them, and the three walked home together.


End file.
